


i am so impure

by FreshBrains



Category: The Following
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s nothing more beautiful,” Ava said, voice thick as she looked down at Megan with big, damp blue eyes, hand working against Megan’s cunt, “than the little death.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am so impure

“You looked beautiful last night,” Ava murmured into Megan’s neck, her hand drifting up Megan’s bare waist. 

Megan turned over, the sheets twisting around her waist.  She opened her eyes and flinched away from the sun peering through the closed blinds.  “What do you mean?”

Ava laughed, breath hot against Megan’s neck.  “What, I can’t pay a girl a compliment?”

Megan smiled through her sleepiness, finally opening her eyes to look at Ava.  God, Ava Marsden…scratch that, _Deputy_ Ava Marsden.  The high school golden girl who never gave skinny, rowdy Megan Leeds a second glance in the school hallway, and there she was, naked and pale in Megan’s unmade bed.  “You can pay me all the compliments you want,” she said, voice husky from sleep, “if you kiss me again.”

Ava smiled, her face like a Swedish princess’, all bow-shaped pink lips and big blue eyes.  She slid a soft, bare leg over Megan’s body and leaned over her, blond curls falling to tickle Megan’s neck.  “Of course.”  Her hands pressed against the mattress on either side of Megan’s head, firm, keeping Megan in place as she pressed their morning-soft mouths together.

Ava had surprised her.  She was fierce in bed, like a fox, like a coyote.  She left bites along Megan’s neck, swollen mouth-shaped bruises on her hips and thighs.  It was like Ava wanted to consume her.

“I meant it,” Ava sighed, lips still grazing Megan’s.  Her hand drifted down beneath the shifts, fingertips brushing against Megan’s thighs.  “ _La petite mort._ ”

Megan’s breath hitched and she wanted nothing more than to curl up all day in bed with this girl, this girl she knew all her life but only _knew_ the night before.  She spied her work shirt on her chair and tried to ignore it.  “I-I don’t know any French.”

Ava grinned wickedly, or at least as wicked as her heart-shaped face could get.  She pressed her thumb to Megan’s swollen clit, giving her light pressure, enough to make Megan’s toes curl.  “It means _the little death_.  It means orgasm.”

Megan thrust lazily against Ava’s hand and tried to think…did Ava take French in high school?  No, no, she was in Jenny Summers’ Spanish class… _la petite mort…_

“There’s nothing more beautiful,” Ava said, voice thick as she looked down at Megan with big, damp blue eyes, hand working against Megan’s cunt, “than the little death.”

When Megan came, it felt like coming alive, like coming out of her skin.  Nothing at all like dying.

*

_At the tone, please record your message._

“Ava, hi.  This is Megan.  Uh, Leeds.  Called to see if you wanted to get a drink tomorrow night.”

_At the tone, please record your message._

“Um, hey Ava, this is Megan again.  I haven’t heard from you since the other night.  Give me a call, I’d like to see you again.”

_At the tone, please record your message._

“Hey Ava, Megan here.  I know it’s been a few weeks, but my friend is having a party on the lake this weekend, and if you’re off-duty, you should come.”

_At the tone, please record your message._

*

He was cute.  He was really cute.  Average height, nice build, intense eyes.  Too intense, when she looks back on it.  He was cute and she was lonely.  He was cute and she was getting off work soon.  He was cute and she wanted something sweet, something nice, something that would leave her feeling good the next day.  He was cute and he seemed like the type of guy who would keep it above the waist with no fuss if she asked, and besides, she didn’t want anyone near her cunt around that time.  It wasn’t going to happen.

She was wrong, and boy, did she fucking pay for it.

*

_Ava will come for me.  Deputy Marsden will come for me._

Megan panted against the silver slash of duct tape and leaned back, trying to avoid letting the sweat roll into her eyes and make her cry hot tears again.  The man was upstairs with the other man and the small woman; they were arguing.  Her cute man who kept it above the waist before knocking her out, fucking her in the dirt, and tying her up in the basement.

_Maybe she doesn’t want me.  Not like that, not anymore.  But she’ll save me.  She_ has _to._

She tried to remember Ava around town, but couldn’t.  Ava didn’t fit in with the bleak, pale surroundings of drug stores and lakeside ice cream parlors.  She was always on the fringes, the outside, waiting to strike.

_Please come get me.  I’m waiting._

*

Everything was a blur when she got out, but all she knew was that the arms she collapsed into weren’t Ava Marsden’s.

*

Megan got out, but she wasn’t free.  The people at her support group (Survivor’s Anon, held in the church basement across town) told her that was normal—the nightmares, the shivers on the back of her neck, the cringing away from everyone’s touch.  It was normal, but it would get better.

*

“I don’t think you should work at that store anymore,” her mother told her for the hundredth time on her hundredth visit that week.  She always came around Megan’s apartment on weeknights—Megan was taken to the farmhouse on a Wednesday night.  She brought her fruits and vegetables, coupons, tabloids, as if it was her job to keep Megan fresh, to keep her in touch with the world.

Megan sat on her kitchen counter and sniffed the collar of her gas station work shirt, wondering when the last time she washed it was.  She’d worked double-shifts the past week, preferring the gas station only because the TV broke months before and she never saw the news.  She never had to see Joe Carroll or any of his little friends at work.

Her boss was around more; so were her co-workers, the ones she hung out with.  They lingered after their shifts around the Hostess rack or the drink machines, making small talk, keeping their eyes on Megan.  They loved her like a sister—she was safe at the store.

“The store is fine,” Megan said, hopping off the counter.  “I’m going to do some laundry.”

*

She walked across town to the police station.  It was late summer, the air was getting cool, but she still wore her dirty flip-flops and frayed denim shorts.  She wasn’t changing with the seasons.

_I just want to know if she was there_ , she thought, keeping her pace relaxed on the sidewalk.  _I want to know if she saw the blood.  I want to know if thought about me_.

“Hi, I’m looking for the Deputy?”  Megan stood in front of the office. 

A man with close-cropped dark hair nodded at her and came out from behind his desk.  “Miss Leeds, is everything alright?”

Megan blushed; she didn’t realize how well-known she probably was around town.  _One of Joe Carroll’s pretty dead girls_.  “Yeah, sorry, I’m totally fine.  Is the Deputy here?”

The man nodded again, all business.  “That would be me.  How can I help you?”

Megan opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.  “But…I thought Ava Marsden was the deputy.  Did she transfer or something?  Do you guys do that?”

The man’s eyebrows knit together and his head tilted to the side, giving her the oddest look.  He cleared his throat.  “No, Marsden didn’t transfer.”  He folded his arms, looking around the office to see if anyone was listening.  “Miss Leeds, have you watched the news since you got home?”

*

They didn’t let Joe Carroll say anything on TV anymore, but there was one quote that appeared all over the place—the cheap papers, the _Dateline_ segments, the morning national news hour.  It always came from his people, passed from one sick mouth to the next.

“The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.”

_The death of a beautiful woman_.

Just a little death.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from NIN's "Reptile."


End file.
